


Own You

by Mrs_Don_Draper



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Master/Slave, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Don_Draper/pseuds/Mrs_Don_Draper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Slave AU where people can own other people as slaves - most of them born, but normal people can be also made slaves by court for example as a punishment.  Hannibal slowly begins to understand that he cannot provoke Will to attack him or run, so he starts to accept that he will have to endure the length of Will’s sentence before he sells him/kills him. He slowly begins to treat the him nicely and to his surprise finds out that Will is very intelligent...and very useful.</p><p>
  <b>THIS FIC HAS BEEN ABANDONED.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points:
> 
> \- Hannibal asks Will what is name is, Will is confused because he was beaten into not having a name, so Hannibal asks what his last owner called him, "Fucktoy," answers Will. "And the one before that?" "Bitch."  
> \- Will cries the first time Hannibal gently pets his hair.  
> \- Will somehow participates in killing Jack.  
> \- Chesapeake Ripper starts killing masters who abuse their slaves.

“Shut-up, Fucktoy. What have I told you about speaking out of turn?” Sam yelled, with a swift kick to Will’s abused belly.

Will let out a grunt of pain. He was used to this sort of treatment, but that never made it any easier to endure. Kicks, punches, slaps, and fucking were all everyday activities in the life of Will Graham. It was a constancy that he didn’t appreciate as he was sold from one master to the next. There was no master that was “better” than the others. They all liked to take their anger and sexual frustration out on him. It was the life he was resigning himself to.

It was days like these where he missed his freedom the most. In another life, he had been a college professor. Someone who was respected. He wondered where his friends were and if he’d ever see them again. Mostly he just wished that tonight’s punishment would be swift. He was exhausted after a day of hard labor, but it appeared that Sam was not going to let up.

When he managed to finally look up at his master, he saw him working his pants open, much like he did every night. He pulled his dick out and fisted it roughly.

_Not again…_

“Come over here, Fucktoy. You know what to do.”

Will knew his role well. He’d lived with Sam for the past six months—the longest of any of his previous masters—and knew what he liked by now. Will crawled over the rough carpet on his hands and knees and obediently opened his mouth.

Sam was not gentle. He shoved his dick inside Will’s mouth until his pubic hair was at Will’s nose. Will choked and gagged on his master’s dick. It made it hard to breathe. Will always tried to let himself float away whenever this happened, almost like he was watching himself suck someone off. It wasn’t difficult to imagine himself elsewhere. Free to do as he pleased. 

That was the one thing his masters could never take away from him: his mind. He honed his mind from childhood to adulthood, reading as much and as often as he could, knowing it might be the last time he would ever hold a book in his hands.

It’s not long before Sam is coming down his throat in thick spurts. Doing this is always disgusting, but it’s better than being fucked up the ass. Sam pulls out of his mouth, and come spills from his lips. He struggles to swallow it all, or else he’ll get another beating for sure.

“Something to remember me by, Fucktoy. You’re going to a new home tonight.”

Sam says this with cruel smile.

Will could only wonder just who he was being sent to. And why.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Rachel, please come in.”

Rachel walks into Hannibal’s office and can’t help but admire how nice it is. Shelves and shelves of books, a beautiful rug, a dark wood desk, pretty paintings on the wall. It’s a comfortable room, but not a single page is out of place.

“What is on your mind today?”

Rachel sits down in the chair across Hannibal and wonders where she should start.

“Well, I’ve been having difficulties with Lawrence, my slave. He’s simply not—”

“I would ask you to stop talking.”

Rachel closes her mouth abruptly.

“I don’t see why—”

“Because no one should be forced to be enslaved to another individual. I detest people who comfortably own another human being,” Hannibal interrupts.

Rachel looks affronted and stands to leave.

“Well if you’re not going to take your patients seriously, then I will just have to find another therapist.”

Hannibal stands as well.

“By all means.”

It isn't his first, and it won't be his last, client he lost when volunteering his position on human enslavement.

Rachel sniffs, dons her coat, and exits the office. Hannibal shuts the door behind her. She will make an excellent roast one day. Perhaps the Ripper will come out to play. _Luckily,_ Hannibal thinks, _this will give me more time to prepare for this evening._

There was a silent auction tonight at the opera house, and he was interested in winning some tickets to a show.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Little did Hannibal know that one Will Graham was also going to be up for grabs as the only human on auction for the evening.

"Get in the cage, Fucktoy."

Will hesitated. The last time he was in a cage had been...less than pleasant. He doesn't remember much, since he purposely blocked most of his trauma from his mind, but he does remember there being quiet a lot of blood. His own blood.

"I won't ask you twice, you slut. I'm going to make a pretty penny off of you. You're more goddamn trouble than you're worth."

With a huge shove to his thin frame, Will was inside the cage. Sam's rough hands snap a thick leather collar to his throat and attached a leash to the small metal loop.

A hand smacks across his face as the door slammed shut.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hannibal was just adjusting his bow tie before entering the building when he saw a commotion of people gathered around one of the tables. Generally these gatherings were quiet affairs. There wasn’t generally a cause for excitement over opera tickets or paintings or exotic trips. This must be a very special prize indeed.

He moves in closer to see for himself, and what he sees appalls him.

There was a small cage with a slave, a _human_ , inside of it. He was wearing a dog collar and a leash lashed him to the cage bars. There was a small placard that read:  
“Young Slave. In his thirties. Comes when called. Very ornery. Looking to be broken in. Well-versed in sexual acts. Bidding starting at $200.”

Hannibal sneered. Some people were simply disgusting. Humanity had no class. He was going to walk away and leave the young man to the crowd when he saw someone spit on him through the bars. The poor boy happened to look up at that moment, searching the faces staring down at him for help. Suddenly, the man turned his face and caught Hannibal's eye. He was pleading with him. That settled it. He was bidding on this poor soul. Hannibal might eat people, but he knew better than to think he was that much better than someone.

When the bidding starts, he immediately raises his hand.

“$500.” More than double the asking price.

He received a few dirty looks. A few other people bid as well, but each time, he was ready with a counter offer.

“$1000 going once. $1000 going twice. Sold! To the gentleman with the red bow tie.

What exactly he was going to do with a slave was another story completely.


	2. Chapter 2

At the end of the night, the auctioneer hands Hannibal the lead.

“Enjoy, Dr. Lecter. I hear this one ins more trouble than he’s worth.”

The auctioneer laughs at his own joke as he walks away.

Hannibal looks at Will, who immediately looks down at his feet. Interesting.

“Come along,” Hannibal says with a light tug to Will’s leash. Will follows obediently after.

When they reach Hannibal’s care in the parking lot, Will can tell right away that this man comes from money. That he has a lot of it. And he isn’t shy about spending it. Which will probably mean that he’ll be riding in the trunk. He waits patiently at the back of the car.

“Aren’t you going to get in?” Hannibal asks.

 

It’s a direct question, but he’s not sure if he’s supposed to answer or not. He keeps silent just in case.  
Hannibal waits a moment before opening the passenger side door for Will and gesturing him inside. Will is surprised that this master will let him sit in a seat of comfort, but he’s not going to question good fortune when it falls in his lap so rarely. Still, it’s awkward being next to naked while sitting beside a man in a tuxedo. That, he supposes, is just part of the life of a slave. Things didn’t have to make sense. You just had to accept things as they came to you.

Hannibal started the car, and the long drive to his house began.

“I’ve never had a salve before,” he converses. “So I’m not entirely sure what to do with you.”

Will looks out the window without acknowledging that he heard or not.

“I’m not particularly fond of the institution of slavery, but law says that I must keep you under my control for a month to ensure I have had the full slave experience.”

Will already knows what that entails. He’s not frightened per se, but as with any new master, it’s going to be a game of catching up to what he likes and doesn’t like, wants and doesn’t want. It’s a long, lonely process.

When they pull up in front of Hannibal’s home, he tenses. His new prison. As nice and well-stocked as it may be, he’s still going to be trapped inside. He takes one last look out his window, knowing he won’t be outside again for a long time.

Hannibal takes the leash and leads him through the huge front door and through the entry way and into what Will assumes is a private study.

“Wait here while I undress.”

Will nods slightly.

Hannibal half hopes the man will try to escape. Law states that any slave trying to escape may be punished in any fashion seen fit by the master. He could even kill the man if he wanted. Any my wouldn’t that be a tasty meal? Though perhaps he should fatten the man up first. And get his name as well. It wouldn’t do to call him “boy” or “man” the whole month.

Once he is comfortably inside pajamas and robe, he goes back to his study to find Will sitting on the floor, staring blankly at his knees. Hannibal supposes that this is the moment where he’s supposed to show his slave that he’s the boss. Perhaps he can even provoke him into attacking and needing to use “self-defense” as his excise for killing his new slave.  
“What is your name? I want you to answer me.”

Will’s voice is rusty from disuse.

“You can call me anything you like.”

“What did your last master call you?”

“Fucktoy.”

“And the one before that?”

“Bitch.”

Hannibal sighs.

“Well that will not do. What is your birth name?”

“William George Graham. I like being called Will.”

It’s audacious of him, but he truly does miss hearing his name. Even if it comes from the lips of his master.

“Then that is what I will call you.”

Will only nods again.

Hannibal supposes that he now must “teach” Will a “lesson.”

Out of nowhere, Hannibal’s hand comes down on Will’s face with a mighty crack.

Will gasps sharply and topples over. He cowers on the carpet with his hands over his head. Hannibal rains blows down on Will until the man is a whimpering mess. Hannibal feels slightly guilty, but this is what masters do, and he’s itching for a reason to kill will and break this slave contract early. Will does nothing but shake on the floor at this feet.  
Hannibal takes some pity, and gently calls Will’s name. He doesn’t move. When Hannibal crouches to touch a hand to his shoulder, Will flinches violently.

“It’s time for bed,” he says quietly. “Come with me.”

Will stands on shaky legs, but he dutifully follows Hannibal upstairs. What will his living quarters be like? Chains? Ropes? He shudders to think. Hannibal opens the door to his master bedroom. Oh. So he’s sleeping on the floor then. Well, it’s better than some places he’s been made to sleep…

Hannibal turns down the bedding and motions for Will to climb in.

“Me?” Will asks.

Hannibal smiles.

“Yes. I want you beside me.”

Will gulps. Perhaps he was going to be used for sex? His throat aches at the memory of Sam.

Hannibal discards his robe, but leaves his pajamas on. Will follows him onto the bed. Hannibal clicks off the bedside lamp after Will had settled nervously down on the pillows.  
“Sleep now, Will. You’ve had a long day.”

Though hesitant and wary, Will finds himself falling into a deep sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Will wakes up the next morning, he’s disoriented. The last time he had slept in a real bed had been before the accident. Something he rarely tried to think about, let alone talk about with someone else. Who would listen to the plight of a slave anyway? Will takes stock of his body before waking. Bruises everywhere, tender cheeks, split lip, but he was whole, and that is the best he can say about himself. He opens his eyes.

“Good morning, Will.”

Will isn’t sure, but he thinks he’s supposed to respond.

“Morning.”

He begins to wonder what Hannibal will do to him or make him do today. Hannibal is a large man. He could do some serious damage to his body if he wanted to, if last night was any indication. He had quite the arm. Anyone of his strength and stature would surely have the equipment to fuck him raw. Will shudders.

Hannibal finishes dressing at the mirror. He’s wearing a navy button up and black pants with black shoes. He notices the black belt too. That could do some damage.

“I have an appointment this morning. You may do as you please while I’m gone, but you are forbidden from leaving the house. Is that clear?”

Will manages a nod. Where else would he go? Maybe he’ll at least be able to make himself some food. Maybe he’ll do some exploring today since he’s apparently allowed to do so.

“Good.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hannibal enters Bedelia’s office precisely at 11:00. She ushers him in with her quiet smile.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“What with?”

Hannibal takes a pause before answering.

“I find myself in possession of a slave.”

Bedelia cocks an eyebrow. 

“Since when have you changed your stance on slavery?”

“I assure you, it was entirely by accident. I was attending an opera auction expecting to bid on some tickets when I spied a man in a cage. A crowd had gathered to laugh at him, and he looked up at me. I couldn’t leave him there.”

“What are you going to do with him?”

“I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps he will make good company.”

“Tread lightly, Hannibal. He’s a slave and more than likely abused. He may try to retaliate one day, and what will you do then?”

 _That’s what I’m counting on,_ he doesn’t say.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the meantime, Will walks quietly around the huge house he now inhabits. He’s grateful when he finds the kitchen because his stomach keeps growling on account of not eating since breakfast yesterday. He uses the term “breakfast” lightly since he doesn’t really think come and toast is exactly a meal.

The refrigerator is enormous. Inside are packages of meat and cheeses, vegetables, and fruits. He grabs a large red apple and bite into it with a groan. _Food_. Before he knows it, he’s eaten four of the six apples, and his stomach grumbles happily. He finds a bread box on the counter and put two pieces in the toaster and grab some slices of cheese. He chows down on the delicious sandwich in front of him.

He’s so engrossed in munching each bite that he doesn’t hear the front door open, nor does he hear the footsteps that walk towards his location. Hannibal watches from the doorway as Will sits on a stool, eating his breakfast.

The man is obviously starving. On the other hand, he never explicitly stated that he could eat. What should he do? He decides to let this go. He can always beat him later.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Will jumps at the noise. He puts down his food and immediately drops to his knees in submission.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Hannibal takes pity on him. He reaches out a gentle hand and carefully pats his head.

“It’s alright. You were hungry.”

Will can’t keep it inside. He lets out a wail and begins sobbing on his kitchen floor. Hannibal is slightly taken aback, but realizes that this could be an advantage. Being kind to him once and being cruel to him later will keep Will on his toes and hopefully prompt him into overreacting. Plus it would be fun watching him shake apart before his very eyes.  
He crouches down to Will’s level and pulls him into an embrace.

“Hush. You’ve been through quite the ordeal. Let’s get you into a shower and into some real clothes.”

Will looks on in disbelief and stand when Hannibal stands.

_Why? Why is he doing this?_

He follows Hannibal back to his bedroom and into his en suite. It’s got a huge tub and shower stall. Hannibal gestures to the tub, and Will mindless discards his underwear and tee shirt. Hannibal fills the tub with warm water and lets Will luxuriate in the bath and the soap he adds to the water. Hannibal gets some shampoo, rolls up his sleeves, and begins scrubbing Will’s head. He wonders when the last time was that Will had a bath. 

Will can’t help himself. He has to ask.

“Why are you being nice to me?”

“Would you rather I be cruel to you?”

“I’m used to it.”

“What were your other masters like?”

Will hesitates. How honest was he supposed to be?

“You may speak freely,” Hannibal says before rinsing Will’s hair.

“They would beat me on a regular basis. They liked to fuck me a lot. Sometimes more than one at a time. Anything that would hurt or humiliate me, they would do it.”

Hannibal’s mouth set in a frown.

“How many masters have you had?”

“Including you? Seven.”

“Will, I assure you that I will only punish you if you are rude. If there is one transgression that is unforgivable, it is rudeness.”

“I understand, master.”

Hannibal hides a smirk.

“Please. Call me Hannibal.”

“Yes, Hannibal.”

Oh, he was going to like this slave.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After his bath, Hannibal gives him a bathrobe to wear. Will assumes that it’s Hannibal’s because it’s way too big for him. It just gives him something to cuddle in while waits for Hannibal to come back from the store. Hannibal said he was tired of seeing Will looking so drag in his dirty underclothes. Will was grateful for it.

His outburst this afternoon had left him exhausted and drained. He hoped it would be okay for him to take a nap in Hannibal’s bed. He falls asleep almost instantly.

Hannibal finds Will snoring quietly on his bed, burrowed under the covers. He puts his shopping bags down and disrobes himself. A nap with Will would be nice. When he lifts the covers to join him on the bed, Will startles awake.

“I’m sorry! Please. I’m so sorry.”

Hannibal hushes him.

“Will, it’s alright. You’re tired. Sleep.”

Will nods, but he doesn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he slips further down under the covers until he is resting between Hannibal’s legs. Hannibal feels his boxer briefs slowly being tugged down and thrown off the side of the bed. He makes no move to stop Will.

Will carefully takes his soft cock in hand and pumps him into full hardness.

“You know you don’t have to do this, Will.”

Will answers by engulfing him inside his mouth. Hannibal’s abs clench in surprise. Will is very good at this. He takes him all the way inside his throat and swallows around his cock. Hannibal would be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

A hand reaches up to cup his balls, and Hannibal already feels like he’s close to the edge.

“Will.”

Will flicks his tongue over and over the head of his cock.

“Will,” he tries again.

Will only sucks harder.

“ _Will_.”

Will doesn’t let up. He swallows him down once more and waits for his come to slide down his throat. Once Will swallows everything down, he peeks back out from under the covers. He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand and lies down next to his master.

“You didn’t have to do that, Will,” Hannibal says a little breathlessly.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

“Then you’re welcome.”

Tentatively Will presses a kiss to Hannibal’s lips. He can taste himself on Will’s lips.It was a lovely gift to receive from poor Will, but he was still going to be punished tonight because while he enjoyed sexual favors as much as the next man, he still needed an excuse to kill Will and make a meal of him.


	4. Chapter 4

When Will wakes up from his nap, he sees a pair of jeans and a red button-up shirt, which he puts on with a happy face. There’s a note on top of his clothes that tells him to join Hannibal in the dining room that is next to the kitchen.

He finds Hannibal sitting at the table with a place setting across from his own set of plates and utensils. Hannibal stands when Will enters the room and pulls his chair out for him to sit.

“I can’t remember the last time I sat at a set table,” Will says. It’s his own way of saying thank you.

“It would be rude to make you sit on the floor at my feet.”

“My-my other masters would make me eat out of bowl or sit at their feet to feed me scraps. Or they wouldn’t feed me at all. Or they’d—” Will cuts himself off.

“Yes?”

“They’d tell me that I was so full of come that I didn’t need food that day.”

“We’re going to have to change that, aren’t we?”

Hannibal stands to bring out the steaks and potatoes and serves Will first.

“Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Will spends the next hour trying not to tear into his food like an animal. It takes all his energy to cut each slice of meat rather than eating it with his bare hands. Hannibal watches amusedly, taking small bites while keeping his eyes fixed on Will the entire time. This is a good steak that came from a bad client, and he intends to enjoy every moment of this experience with Will and his food.

“Dessert?”

“God yes.”

Hannibal smiles. It will be so easy to fatten Will up.

Hannibal serves him a chocolate mousse cake, and is pleased at the sight of Will licking chocolate from his lips. Tonight was going to be fun.

After dinner, Hannibal adopts a serious face. He has coddled Will today. Lulled him into a false sense of security, if you will. But he doesn’t want to have to keep taking care of Will. It’s a job he never wanted.

“Time to get ready for bed, Will.”

Will stands from his seat but doesn’t move until Hannibal waves him over with his hand. Will follows and wonders whether Hannibal is being serious or not. More than likely, he’s going to be punished for his insubordination. He’s been tricked this way before.

Hannibal leads him not to the stairs that lead to his bedroom but back to Hannibal’s study. Will’s stomach drops like a stone when Hannibal closes and locks the door.

“On your knees, Will.”

Will nods dejectedly. He knew it. He fucking knew it.

Hannibal slowly slides his belt from his belt loops, and Will flinches. He’s going to be fucked here. God, he hasn’t even be prepared yet. Hannibal is going to fuck raw. He’s going to bleed, and then what will Hannibal do when he stains his nice carpet?

But Hannibal doesn’t remove any of his clothing. He holds his belt between his two hands, making it snap loudly in the quiet room. Will lowers his head, but not before Hannibal gets a good look at Will’s wide, frightened eyes.

He holds the belt aloft, letting the tension and fear build. He can smell it coming in waves off of Will. He brings the belt down with a sickening crack. Will screams in pain. Hannibal brings the belt down over and over until he’s panting heavily, and Will is crying his eyes out. Hannibal drops the belt to the floor, and Will flinches. Hannibal listens to him cry and sniff before crouching down.

“Will?”

He freezes instantly. _Why? Why did it always have to be like this? I’m good. I’m a good person. I don’t deserve this!_

This wasn’t working. Will was too broken, too submissive to retaliate. He was never going to get a rise out of him. Perhaps he was stuck with the man after all. Many people knew of his slave by now, so killing him seemed like it was no longer an option.

Hannibal puts a hand on his shoulder. “Will.”

“Please don’t. Please don’t suddenly be nice to me. I can’t take it. Please.”

Hannibal ignores his words and carefully lifts him up from the ground. He maneuvers Will until his legs lock around his waist and his arms grab hold of his shoulders. Will is so slight; he is easy to carry up the stairs.

Silently, Hannibal disrobes Will and gently tucks him into bed. Some changes were going to have to be made.


	5. Chapter 5

As the days progress, Will is given more and more liberties. Hannibal has given him half of his walk-in closet, as well as toiletries. He’s allowed to move freely throughout the house too. Will is a fortnight in when Hannibal asks if he would like to join him for a walk.

“Yeah, that would be really great actually.”

For appearances’ sake, he attaches a black leather collar to his neck and a long black leash. Will tries not to show how much he hates this. No matter how free Hannibal lets him be, he’s still a slave. Still less than a person. It makes him sick, and he can’t help but squirm and roll his neck uncomfortably.

“It is a nuisance, but it is customary. Come.”

Will follows him out the front door and into the sunshine. It’s beautiful. There’s not a cloud in the sky. Will turns his face up with his eyes closed to soak in the warm rays. Hannibal indulges him for a few moments before gently tugging on his leash. Will follows.

Hannibal lives in a nice area. All the houses are huge with big lawns and expensive cars. There are other people out as well. Some walking dogs, others are walking their slaves. None of them make eye contact with him. It reminds him of his place. Hannibal just continues to stride forward, apparently heedless of those around him. When they reach a crosswalk, they wait for traffic to die down. Another couple approaches. An older women with some sort of mutt. When the old lady isn’t looking, he gives the dog a good scratch behind the ears. The dog barks cheerfully. 

Hannibal notices the pleased look on Will’s face. Perhaps he will buy Will a special treat. They cross the street. They end up walking in a loop that ends up being about three miles long. Will is glad to have worked his muscles. He feels refreshed.

When they get back to Hannibal’s house, Will can’t help himself.

“Thank you,” he breathes, hugging Hannibal tightly.

Startled, Hannibal isn’t sure how to respond, but he eventually brings his arms up to hug Will back.

“You are welcome. Any time you want recreation, let me know.”

Will beams.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After lunch, Hannibal announces that he’s going out but will be back in time to prepare dinner. Will nods from his curled up position on the couch and goes back to reading one of Hannibal’s books: _Murder on the Orient Express._ As someone with a cop’s background, he found it to be a thrilling read.

Hannibal was pleased that Will was starting to be more comfortable around him, although he wasn’t sure how much longer he would want to keep him around. But given the errand he was on, it seemed that Will would be around for a while.

Hannibal pulled up to Lee’s Animal Shelter with the intent of finding a friend for Will. The man was obviously a dog lover if he was daring enough to touch a stranger’s pet without permission. It was out of place behavior for a slave. But Will was different.

Hannibal enters the pound to a cacophony of barking and whining. A woman came around a corner and loudly asked him what kind of animal he was looking for today.

“Something playful and young. A mutt.”

The woman smiles. “I know just the pup.”

She leads Hannibal down row after row of caged animals. They look sad and scared. They want to be loved and cared for and played with. They want to run and be free. They want a master.

“Here we are.”

Hannibal finds himself standing in front of a cage. It’s a shaggy dog, sandy red in color with pointed ears and a fluffy tail. He was sleeping on his paws until he heard people approach his cage. When he wakes up to company, he immediately sits up and wags his tail, eager to please.

“I’ll take him.”

A short transaction later, and Hannibal finds himself holding on to a new leash and collar, a food and water bowl, a chew toy, and a bag of bones. The dog sits in the front seat, and Hannibal is kind enough to roll his window down for him to stick his head out the window. If this didn’t put a smile on Will’s face, he wasn’t sure anything ever would.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Will hears the car pull up in the driveway but doesn’t put his book down until he hears a barking noise outside the window. He quickly jumps up and sees Hannibal leading a puppy to the front door. Will’s heart begins to pound as he runs downstairs as quickly as he can.

He arrives in the foyer just as Hannibal is opening the front door.

“Is he for me?” he beams.

“This is a gift to you, Will. He’s yours.”

Will drops to his knees and hugs the dog close. The puppy licks his cheeks and barks happily when Will scratches him behind the ears.

“You’re such a good dog, aren’t you? Aren’t you, boy?” To Hannibal he asks, “What is his name?”

“I thought I would leave that privilege up to you.”

Will takes a thoughtful look at the dog before declaring, “Winston. His name is Winston.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All afternoon Winston and Will play in Hannibal’s large backyard. Will threw a stick for him over and over again until they were panting while lying on the grass, looking up at the sky, watching the colors change from blue to purple and orange. Will rests with his head on Winston’s furry tummy, letting the breeze blow gently over his face.

Around 7:00, Hannibal came out and saw a pretty little picture. A man and his dog. He hates to wake him, but dinner is just about ready.

“Will? Time for dinner.”

Winston wakes up first and helps wake Will up by licking his face. When Will opens his eyes, he does so with a smile. He reaches his hand up for help, and Hannibal takes. They’re standing very close, Will notices.

“Thank you again. This was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

Hannibal doesn’t answer him. He simply kisses Will deeply before pulling back and gesturing him into the house. There’s even a bowl for Winston.


	6. Chapter 6

Will is anxious that one day this little fantasy land Hannibal has created for him will collapse around his ears. He’s waiting for the day that Hannibal asks more invasive questions about his past. He’s hesitant to bring up the accident to Hannibal on his own for fear of his reaction. Instead, Will sits in his bath and listens to Hannibal read to him from Dante’s _Inferno._

Hannibal suddenly closes his book.

“Do you believe in hell, Will?”

“No. I’ve seen hell. It’s right here on earth.”

Hannibal is mildly shocked. He’s never heard Will speak so freely, yet he is sure the man is only trying to be truthful with him. He would know if Will was lying.

“I take it you mean slavery.”

“Yes.”

“Your other masters were less than savory, as you’ve previously stated. Why are you a slave, Will?”

Ah, there was the question he had been avoiding. Right. He sighs.

“I used to work as a cop, but then I moved to the FBI. I was a profiler. They used me to look into the minds of serial killers and violent crime. One day, I got too close, too deep and had a major meltdown. I started self-harming and lashing out at everyone because I couldn’t think. I couldn’t focus anymore.”

“Why didn’t you quit?”

Will laughs sadly. “Don’t you think I wanted to? The man I worked for was named Jack Crawford. I guess you could say he was my master before I was even a slave. Jack took me to this crackpot psychiatrist named Frederick Chilton who works at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Apparently they both thought I fit the bill. They tried to convince me that I was the killer and that was how I was able to decipher the crime scenes, but it was really just because they wanted to use me for other purposes. Frederick had me declared mentally insane and therefore in need of a master’s custody.”

“So you ended up with Jack Crawford.”

“Yeah. I went from going to crime scenes and the lab to kneeling under his desk to suck him off every day. I made friends with a lab tech there, Beverly, when I was allowed out, but as soon as she found out what Jack was doing, he had her sacked.”

“So how did you come to be in my possession?”

“When Beverly’s report on Jack got on tattlecrime.com, he was declared an unfit master, and I was put up for auction. I’ve been passed around like this since all of that happened.”

It was obvious that Will had not wanted to tell his story, but his loyalty was truly starting to show. Hannibal bristled at the idea of someone not appreciating the mind that came with Will Graham. Will was his and that was all there was to it. He put their names on an ever-growing list at the back of his mind. One day.

Will drains the bath and climbs out of the tub. Hannibal hands him his bathrobe. Will walks into their bedroom and climbs in. He’s getting used to taking naps in the middle of the afternoon. Catching up on sleep has done wonders for his broken mind. Hannibal has taken to joining him when he’s not seeing patients. 

Will clutches Hannibal close to him as he continues with his tale.

“And Jack’s been trying to get me back ever since. I don’t know if he has the money to buy me back or not, but I’m sure he’s willing to pay top dollar since he knows what I’m capable of with my mind, but mostly of my mouth and ass.”

“Do you ever have sex for pleasure, Will?”

Will noses at Hannibal’s neck.

“Whose pleasure?”

Hannibal gives a small chuckle.

“Yours.”

Will sighs. “It’s been a while.”

Hannibal runs his hands over Will’s naked skin, pushing his bathrobe off his shoulders.

“Would you like to try?”

Will knows he’s supposed to say yes to his master, but Hannibal has broken almost every rule that had ever been beaten into him. He does wonder what it would be like to have a more loving partner though.

“Okay.”

Hannibal kisses him before rising from the bed.

“I’ll be right back.”

Will hopes he’s only gone to fetch some lube and nothing more. He doesn’t like being tied up or blindfolded or gagged. The last person he had willingly been with was many years ago, and he can’t even properly remember the evening. Before he had masters to “teach” him, he had been awkward at sex, fumbling in a way he hoped was cute and not annoying. Now, he didn’t even really care what went inside him or how or where, although his preference would always be “consensual.”

Hannibal comes from the bathroom with a bottle of lube. Phew.

“I’m going to prepare you now, Will.”

Wills nods and turns over onto his stomach.

“I want to hear you give consent before I touch you.”

“Yes, you may touch me.”

Hannibal climbs on the bed to sit between Will’s spread legs. Instinctively, Will gets up on his hands and knees and thrusts his ass back towards Hannibal. A gentle hand comes up and caresses his body. Will lets out a contented hum.

Hannibal flicks open the cap and drizzles lube onto his crack before spreading his cheeks to work it in with his fingers. The first finger goes in easily, but the second one kind of hurts. He clenches nervously around Hannibal’s fingers.

“Easy, Will. Breathe.”

And he does. In and out. In and out. In and out. Much like Hannibal’s fingers are doing as they moved inside him. A third finger slips inside his ass, and he gasps loudly.

“Shhh, you’re alright, Will. You can do this. Show me.”

He _does_ know how to do this. He’s done it hundreds of times for all of his masters. Since when has three fingers been such a big deal when he was getting fisted every month from his fourth master? Somehow that makes breathing easier. Hannibal is nothing like him.

Hannibal’s fingers pull out, and Will hears Hannibal pulls his boxer briefs off and tossing them to the floor to be dealt with later. There’s a slick sound of lube coating Hannibal’s cock. He’s never even really seen it since his blowjob the first night here. He remembers it being big, but not so big he couldn’t deepthroat him. He’s not sure if he should be comforted or not.

“I’m going to enter you now.”

“Do it.”

Hannibal lines up with his ass and carefully presses the head of his cock inside Will and stops. Will takes deep breaths and unconsciously clenches around the intrusion. He hears Hannibal gasp before pushing each inch inside until he was fully seated. Again he paused to allow Will time to adjust to his girth. Hannibal runs his hands over Will’s back to soothe him, and for that, he is grateful.

“You’re doing fine, Will. I’m going to start moving now.”

“Yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Do it.”

Hannibal pulls his hips back and pushes himself in again until Will’s body finally starts to accept him. He picks up the pace until he feels sweat on his brow and hears Will panting and grunting below him.

“I want to see your face.”

Hannibal pulls all the way out, and Will nearly sobs. He feels so _empty_. He quickly turns over and puts his feet on Hannibal’s shoulders. Hannibal enters him swiftly, earning another grunt.

“You’re perfect, Will. You are mine. You are mine. You are _mine_.”

Will tries to keep his eyes open as Hannibal enters him over and over again because he keeps hitting that spot inside of him, and he has to grab his dick. He has to.

“Don’t,” Hannibal pants. “Let me take care of you.”

Hannibal continues his thrusting and reaches a hand down to jack his cock. Will gasps.

“I’m close, Hannibal.”

And Hannibal almost comes right then and there. It’s the first time Will has said his name.

“Say it again. Say my name.”

“Hannibal.”

His hips start to lose their rhythm. He’s thrusting harder and harder and jacking Will faster and faster until Will feels like he’s going to fly apart at the seams if one of them doesn’t come right now.

“Hannibal. Hannibal, please.”

With a loud grunt, Hannibal empties inside of his ass. He feels so damn full, and he’s on a fine line, a knife’s edge of pleasure. If he could just get there…

“Hannibal,” he whispers one more time.

Hannibal pushes inside of him just right and then finally, Will is coming too. Hannibal strokes him until it’s too much, and he has to bat his hands away from his dick.

Will opens his eyes without realizing they had been closed. He’s still panting heavily.

“Wow.”

Hannibal kisses him open mouthed and sloppy.

“Good night, dear Will.”


	7. Chapter 7

“I think I’ve found him, Jack,” says Chilton on the other end of the line.

“Where is he?”

“His master’s name is Hannibal Lecter. They’re in Virginia.”

Jack smiles.

“Perfect.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How is your new slave?” Bedelia asks.

She flips her legal pad to a fresh page and clicks her pen.

“He has become a companion for me. He reads and does some writing of his own. He used to be an FBI profiler.”

Bedelia nods as she listens.

“What sort of relationship do you have?”

She’s being delicate; Hannibal can tell.

“You want to know about our sex life.”

She doesn’t say anything. She waits for him to answer his own question.

“We don’t have intercourse frequently, and we only do so when Will makes the initial move. I want to give him as much control over our relationship as I can.”

“Would he ever refuse you?”

“No. He wouldn’t.”

Bedelia lets that sit in the room for a while.

“Have you ever asked him to do something he didn’t want to do?”

“Most certainly not. Will makes his own decisions, and I support him when I can.”

“And would you do anything for him in return?”

With all seriousness, Hannibal says, “I would do anything to protect him.”

His intensity doesn’t often frighten her, but she gets a chill down her spine at his words. She’s always suspected that Hannibal was capable of revenge and cruelties. Bedelia’s pen scratches across her paper. She knows that Hannibal is dangerous, and she worries for the well-being of the man in his care. And this she marks down for her notes: _Client (Hannibal Lecter) has become obsessed with slave (Will Graham)._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After his appointment, he drives home, thankful to be returning home to Will. He finds him in the back yard with Winston, taking turns chasing each other and stands in the doorway to watch him. Will looks so happy for once, and Hannibal savors this moment. He was telling the truth when he said he would do anything for Will, and Jack Crawford had been promoted to the top of his list, followed by Frederick Chilton and Will’s other as yet unnamed masters.

Hannibal goes back inside to make a phone call to an acquaintance, Freddie Lounds, a popular writer for the website tattlecrime.com.

“Hello, Miss Lounds.”

“May I ask who’s speaking?”

“It’s Hannibal Lecter calling. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Not at all Dr. Lecter. How can I be of service?”

“Tell me everything you know about Jack Crawford and Dr. Frederick Chilton, and I’ll make it worth your effort.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a filler, but it will all come together in the end. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

His conversation with Freddie Lounds is enlightening. She had a plethora of information on Jack Crawford and Chilton. He now knew where they lived, what model of car they drove, family members, and even their yearly salaries. Lounds had proved to be a valuable asset, and he promised to pay her handsomely for her information.

“And why do you need this information?” she had asked.

“That is none of your concern. I will have the money sent to your account post haste.”

There was an edge to his tone that told her to back off.

“Then I suppose we are done here, Dr. Lecter.”

“A pleasure as always, Miss Lounds.”

He hung up.

There was no doubt about it. He was going to have the men killed. A long, drawn out, painful murder. He was never one for prolonging death; he only did so in extreme circumstances. Taking on his role as the Chesapeake Ripper was one of those times. For now, he was going to look into Will’s past and discover who thought it was their right to own and abuse a person as gentle as Will. 

The Ripper was ready to play.

He would make a weekend trip of it. He will also ensure that Will was safe and calm, and then he would venture out. He would prepare the best meals for Will, and Winston, for that matter. The man did so love his dog. And Hannibal approved of anything that made Will happy.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Will wakes up on Friday morning, he sees Hannibal packing a small suitcase. He rubs his eyes and sits up to find out what’s going on.

“Where are you going?”

Hannibal smiles. _Oh, if only you knew._

“I’m visiting some out of town relatives. They’ve been asking me to take a weekend off for months. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll be back Sunday evening.”

Will frowns but doesn’t voice his concerns. Since when did Hannibal have such important relatives?

“Okay.”

Hannibal smiles. “It’s only three days, Will. You’ll be just fine.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

Hannibal moves to his side of the bed and gives him a long kiss.

“I’ll make it up to you when I return. I promise.”

Will is content with his answer and the promise of something special when he gets back soothes him. Maybe some time by himself will be good.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hannibal is in his element.

“Please! Please don’t kill me!” the man begged.

“This is for Will Graham,” he says, calmly, patiently, before stabbing the first spear through his genitals.

One through his testicles, one through his left lung, one through his head, one through each leg, and one through his belly. The man screams loudly as Hannibal pulls out a knife. He stabs into the man’s chest and finds the organ he was looking for: his heart. A prize for Will from one of his previous masters.

Hannibal is relieved when the man finally dies. All of his racket was preventing him from being able to think. He quickly packages the heart in his little cooler before going to find the bathroom. Hannibal wipes the blood from his face and rinses off his hands. Four down, two to go. Chilton and Jack Crawford were going to be last, his pièce de résistance.

He feels tired and his muscles protest every movement, but as long as he keeps reminding himself why he is doing this, he can keep going. He can do this. He can do this for Will.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Jack Crawford wakes up Saturday morning, it’s to message from a blocked number informing him that the Ripper has struck again. Jack groans in frustration. Even Will Graham couldn’t catch this serial killer. How the hell was he supposed to do it on his own? It was times like these where he wishes he still owned Will and his perfect, beautiful mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Will gets bored, he finds that a good book can do wonders. He’s slowly been making his way through Hannibal’s collection as the weeks wear on. He finds his copy of _A Lesson Before Dying_ and hunkers down on Hannibal’s couch.

Hannibal returns home at 7:00 PM Sunday evening, ready to give Will his “present.” He was thinking of something along the lines of a fancy dinner and oral sex, but he finds Will in his study, asleep on the couch with Winston curled up at his feet. He pets the dog quietly, unsure whether he should wake Will. Instead, he decides to grab a blanket to cover up Will. He looks so peaceful when he’s asleep, angelic even. And to think that people have hurt him, emotionally, physically, mentally, irks Hannibal. He’s trying to mend him as best he can, but he knows Will is strong in his own right. And he’s getting stronger every day.

Now, Hannibal decides, is time to set his plan into motion. (He can still reward Will later.) As Will sleeps, Hannibal takes his drawings of the Wounded Man and a few other similarly gruesome pictures and places them in an artfully careless manner. With any luck, Will will find them tomorrow morning. It will surely give them something to talk about. And he’s been itching to have Will in on his plan. Together, they will go after Frederick Chilton and Jack Crawford and have themselves a feast. And he wants Will to do the honors. 

He looks over at Will and smiles to himself. Yes, Will was stronger than anyone gave him credit for.


	9. Chapter 9

When Will wakes up the next morning, nothing immediately feels amiss. He stretches out the kinks in his neck and back from being curled up on the couch, and Winston jumps down. They both yawn before smelling the scents of breakfast curling down the hallway. Will stands and moves to put his book back on Hannibal’s shelf—he finally finished it!—and passes by Hannibal’s desk on his way over. He gives his desk a cursory glance until one of the papers catches his eye. Will picks it up cautiously.

Upon further inspection, it’s a drawing of a man with spears and rods and nails sticking out of his body. The man’s mouth is open in a wide “O.” He’s screaming, and Will can almost hear a soft noise coming from the picture. His hands begin to tremble. No. There was no way. This was something only the Chesapeake Ripper would be able to recreate. They never, not once, released the gory details of the Ripper’s work. That was a secret among Jack Crawford’s team. 

Will puts the paper down and grabs another one. He looks on in horror. It’s a brown-haired girl impaled on antlers. They stab through her stomach and chest. The graphite captures her dripping blood with frightening accuracy. Please, god, no. Please, please, please. 

There’s more of them. Ripper picture, shrike pictures, some from murders Will hasn’t been privy to. Missing limbs, bloody faces, impalings, stabbings, tie ups. Will can’t look at it anymore.

Who the hell is he living with? Why? Why him? He finds he can’t support himself anymore and begins dry-heaving on the carpet, coughing and choking loudly. Hannibal suddenly appears in the doorway.

“Good morning, Will.”

He’s wiping his hands off on a towel, and Will thinks he sees red. He thought he left this all behind. He thought Hannibal was different from Jack Crawford, but he has only recently discovered that he is much, much worse than Jack. At least Jack never maimed, tortured, or killed people.

“Get away from me!”

Hannibal takes a step forward.

“Please listen to me.”

“Listen to you? You’re crazy!”

Hannibal is patient with him. He knows Will has had quite a scare. He’ll understand eventually. And if not, well, he’d think of something.

“Don’t you want to know my side of the story first?”

“You kill people! What else is there to know?”

Hannibal chuckles to himself. Oh Will. So sweet and innocent despite the horrors he has seen and experienced.

“I also consume human flesh.”

Will stops his fumbling tries to get away and sits down on the couch. No. This—this was too much. How…? When Hannibal sits down next to him, he doesn’t even flinch. He has no reaction. He’s motionless, floored by what he has heard. Perhaps this would be the thing to break him. Not the rape, not the torture, not his enslavement, but this confession from Hannibal. He has been made an unwilling cannibal countless times.

And fuck, his name even _rhymes_.

“Will, I know this is a lot to take it, but I need you to listen to me. Are you listening to me? Please nod ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

Will nods, barely.

“I have been this way for as long as I can remember. It is a result of my childhood, which I feel you deserve to know. When I was living in Europe, my family was well off, until a foreign government threw my family into an internment camp. My family, among countless others, perished there. My younger sister and I survived, until they killed her too. There was little food for the soldiers and even less for the prisoners. I was served soup one night, and the guards laughed as I ate. They laughed because it was my sister they had made me consume.

“I vowed to take revenge. And I did. I killed each man and ate his heart while the other men watched in horror, waiting for their turn. I fled arrest by immigrating to the United States. Here, I kill those who have done wrong: pedophiles, rapists, serial killers, and child abusers. And most recently, slave masters. I cannot change who I have become—it is far too late for that—but I can assure you that all of them, every single one of them, Will, deserved their death.”

Will says nothing for a long time and tries not to enjoy the gentle way Hannibal has begun to stroke his back.

“What about Mariam Lass? What about Abigail Hobbs?”

Hannibal sighs.

“Those were unfortunate murders that I never wished to commit. They became too close. They guessed too much about me. I had to protect myself. I apologize.”

Will laughs mirthlessly because he knows Hannibal doesn't mean that for a second. Psychopaths didn't feel remorse. Hannibal’s hand falls away.

“Are you going to kill and eat me too now that _I_ know too much? Why are you telling me this?”

“I would never let you come to harm. And I’m telling you this for a very good reason.”

“And that would be…?”

“I have been planning the demise Jack Crawford and Frederick Chilton next.”

“You want my permission?”

“Not at all. I want your help.”

This was all too much. This was insane. Hannibal wanted his help to _kill people_. People, who, granted, were the scum of the earth rapists, but what would _eating_ them solve? Of course Will wants to see them brought to justice. But there were other ways weren’t there. The courts…?

“Why can’t you just inform the police?”

“Are you suggesting that I call the police on an FBI agent and an esteemed psychiatrist who has been in charge of his hospital for a decade?”

Well when he said it out loud, it just sounded stupid.

Hannibal stands and rubs his shoulder.

“Think on what I’ve said. You don’t have to decide today. Please, come have breakfast with me. I’ve felt your absence these past three days.”

And it all feels so domestic. Hannibal’s talking to him as if he had simply told him the weather or the time of day, and not as though he had just confessed to being a cannibalistic serial killer. But for some reason, which might have been self-preservation or might have been spectacular stupidity, he follows Hannibal into the dining room.


	10. Chapter 10

Upon entering the kitchen, Will finds the usual two place settings. There’s scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage links with a glass of orange juice. He sits down and quickly wraps the sausage in a napkin. There was no way he was going to be eating anymore meat from Hannibal.

Hannibal sits down at the table and quietly cuts his sausage into smaller pieces.

“Has every cut of meat you’ve fed me been human?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

“I just don’t understand why.”

“I know no other way to live, Will. But I protect my own, my friends, from those who would do them harm. Jack Crawford and Frederick Chilton have done wrong by you. They have wrongfully enslaved you, raped you, and sold you off to cruel masters. You’re safe with me, though you might not believe it. So you can help me or not. The choice is yours. I was planning to strike within the next few days.”

He takes a bite of eggs when he finishes speaking, allowing Will time to think while he eats.

Will thinks back on his time with Jack and, consequently, Chilton. Like the time Jack fucked him during his survey of a crime scene…

_It was cold and windy, but Will was just thankful to be allowed outside. It was a luxury he didn’t often enjoy anymore. He walks to the edge of the scene: three bodies, all missing their right eyes, all males in their late thirties or early forties, all wearing green shirts. As the pendulum in his mind swings, he vaguely notes that Jack had come up behind him. It made concentrating difficult, especially when Jack grabs the back of his neck._

_“What do you see, Will?_

_Will tries to shrug hand away, but Jack holds firm._

_“I won’t see anything until you let me go.”_

_Those were the days. The days when he still had fire and hope and anger burning inside him, making him obstinate and disobedient. Back when he thought he would find a way of out all this._

_“Are you sassing me, Will? You know what happens to disobedient slaves, don’t you?”_

_Will knows, but he’s not going to come quietly._

_“Why don’t you fuck off, Jack?”_

_It was probably stupid of him to say that, but at the time, he couldn’t have cared less. Jack grabs him by both shoulders and shoved him to his knees. He himself isn’t weak, but an angry Jack is a frightening Jack. Will struggles anyway. Will hears him muttering about needing to be taught a lesson. It’s not long before Jack has his pants open and his cock out, one hand in a vice in Will’s hair. He’s not going to open his mouth. He just isn’t._

_Jack slaps him hard across his face, and he gasps in pain. Jack takes advantage of his shocked open mouth and shoves in. With a hand in his hair and a hand on his shoulder, Will has been rendered immobile. He begins to thrust into his mouth and throat, earning whines and gags in the process. They’ve attracted an audience by now, and Will tries not to make eye-contact with anyone. Everyone else seems to be doing the same; they won’t look at him, and they won’t help him. He closes his eyes to the scene._

_Jack finishes inside his mouth and pinches his nose so he’s forced to swallow if he wants to breathe. It’s so disgusting. No matter how many times this happens, it churns his stomach every time._

_“Now tell me what you see.”_

Chilton wasn’t much better. Will remembers the first time Chilton fucked him. It was…painful.

_Chilton has a nice house, that Will cannot deny. He guesses that being an esteemed doctor with his own hospital means that money comes easy. He’s snapped from his reverie when Chilton kicks him in the back. He catches himself on his palms before he hits the floor._

_“Come on now, Mr. Graham. The bedroom is this way.”_

_He’s quickly ordered to strip out of his clothes and get on the bed. He listens, although everything inside him is screaming at him to not listen. He climbs onto the bed and rests there on his hands and knees. His back throbs painfully._

_Will is semi-grateful the Chilton uses some sort of lubricant on his ass. He hates it when Jack fucks him raw when he’s angry at him or someone else. He’s sad that Jack fired Beverly Katz, his only friend in the unit, when she discovered how Will was being treated. No one else on the team spoke a word. But Will doesn’t get a lot of time to think because Chilton is presently thrusting his dick into his ass. He tries not to scream._

_Chilton is a lot more talkative than Jack. Jack is all grunts and groans and heavy hands. And while Chilton thrusts with the same abandon as Jack, Chilton lets loose with his words._

_“That’s it, that’s it. Jack’s little golden boy. You little bitch. Take my cock. Take it all. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. Gonna send you home to Jack with your ass full of come. You’ll be dripping. Fuck, yes.”_

_Will tries to tune him out, but it’s so hard to ignore. Any other time, he’d be able to float out of a situation and retreat inside his mind, but his nattering makes it impossible to pretend he’s anywhere else._

_“That’s it, pretty boy. Gonna come in your ass now. Gonna—!”_

Will is shaken out of his memory by the sound of Hannibal calling his name. He looks up, shaken.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Jack. Chilton.”

Hannibal nods. Will guesses that it’s probably not too difficult to piece together what he was remembering.

Hannibal reaches his hand out across the table towards him.

“Let me help you, Will.”

Will hesitates, reminding himself of the gravity of what he was about to agree to.

He reaches out and clasps Hannibal’s hand in his own.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually going to finish this fic now that school is over!

They have been discussing Jack and Chilton’s murders for the past three days. Hannibal has been grilling Will for all the details he remembers of Jack’s house: loose floorboards, trick stairs, faulty lights, rattling windows, anything that could give them away. The plan was that Hannibal would arrive at the front door and ring his doorbell under the pretense of wanting to decide on a fair price for Will’s life, while Will would sneak through the back, come to the front and kill him. How quickly the man died, Hannibal was leaving up to Will.

Will has never killed anyone unless it was in self-defense, and even then it was once back when he was a cop. But he knows how to use a weapon, and he’s not afraid to use a weapon if he needs to. He will admit to being surprised, however, when Hannibal presses a gun to his hand.

“Will you be able to use this if you have to?” Hannibal asks.

This was all happening so fast. Everything from being bought by Hannibal, living and sleeping and eating and kissing him, to finding out what he _is_ and what he’s _done_. His hand shakes as the anxiety swells in his chest. They’re going to Jack’s house tonight. Hannibal said it was his job to finish him off. His _right_ to finish him off. Will gulps.

Suddenly, the idea of using the gun on Hannibal flows through his mind. He could turn it on him. Shoot Hannibal instead. Run away. He’s smart enough to figure out how to get away with this. Working with Jack and the FBI would finally be good for something. Sweat forms on his brow.

“I think so,” he answers truthfully.

He’s not going to shoot Hannibal now. That would be messy, inopportune. No, if Will is going to kill him, he’s going to make it look like Jack and Hannibal killed each other. All it would take is wiping some prints. His training starts to come back to him in fits and starts. He can almost see Hannibal lying dead in Jack’s office.

He meets Hannibal’s eye again and finds the man smiling, as if he had his own secret. Did he suspect…?

“We will leave after the sun has set,” Hannibal says, breaking the train of thoughts swarming Will’s brain.

It’s six o’clock and dinner time, but Will finds himself without appetite. Hannibal sits across from him at the table, eating without a care in the world. Will pushes his plate away from himself. His mind wanders back to the gun that Hannibal had given him, now resting in his nightstand, waiting to be used on Jack, Chilton, or any party who wronged him. Will has his own list of people, but he’s pretty sure there’s a small section of both his list and Hannibal’s list that intersects: Will’s masters.

Hannibal abhors the idea of violent, lecherous, and depraved hands having touched Will’s body. Hannibal doesn’t take for granted Will’s capacity for goodness. People should respect the goodness that Will possesses. No one can ever cut, fuck, or choke it out of him. It’s something so deeply ingrained inside of the man, that Hannibal knows even he himself will only ever catch a rare glimpse of it.

But there is another side to Will as well. He wants retribution, respect for his hurts. He wants to see the men responsible brought to justice. And if Hannibal can nurture those darker urges, then he will make sure the job is done well. It is risky, but he is confident when he passed the gun to Will. It was a joy to see a thousand different thoughts spark inside his gifted brain.

Hannibal saw rage, regret, hatred, fright, loathing, so many mixed emotions that Will so rarely displayed. In the weeks that he has come to know the man, Hannibal has seen only guarded root emotions: joy, fear, and sadness. But now Hannibal rejoiced in _finally_ having found a way to tap into Will’s passions. Perhaps Will would even retaliate against Hannibal. He has grown fond of Will, but, if provoked, Hannibal reminds himself that sentiment does not excuse rude behavior. Hannibal smiles at the idea. It will be so fun to see what Will will do.

“Something on your mind, Will?” Hannibal prods.

“Nothing,” Will says, shaking his head. “I just want to get this evening over with.”

Hannibal inclines his head. “I understand your trepidations. The first kill is always the most difficult, but I find that as long as I remember why I am committing this act, the more relaxed I feel. You are killing Jack Crawford tonight because of the way he broke the law and severely mistreated you. You deserve better.”

Will laughs mirthlessly. 

“And you’re better? This house is nothing more than a gilded cage.”

Will suddenly sounds immensely bitter and quite angry.

“Good. As I said, remember why you are doing this.”

Will’s mouth opens slightly in shock. He hadn’t expected that fire within him to flare up and make him speak his treacherous thoughts. Those words could have been the end of him, but instead, Hannibal was telling him to _embrace_ the madness.

“You should eat something. You’ll need to keep your energy up for this evening.”

Will nods and pulls his plate back over to him. He doesn’t know what—or who—it is, but he’s finding that he’s not as bothered by the idea as has been since he found the Wounded Man drawings. He takes a big bite and finds it to be delicious. Some sauce drips down his chin, and it takes all of Hannibal’s power not to vault the table and lick it off of him.

He cannot wait until tonight, after the kill, when he and Will will celebrate this victory together.


	12. Chapter 12

There is the barest sliver of sunlight on the horizon when Will sneaks through Jack’s backyard and into Bella’s garden. Hannibal, Will knows, is currently parking in the Crawford’s driveway. If he listens closely enough, he can hear Hannibal getting out of his car, walking up the gravel driveway, and ringing the doorbell. There’s a few moments of dead silence before Will peaks through a window and sees Jack walk down a set of stairs to answer the front door. There is a brief exchange, and then Hannibal is inside the house.

Will feels like he’s going to vomit, but reminds himself not to leave DNA at a (potential) crime scene. 

He watches Jack lead Hannibal into his dining room, which Will care just barely see. He can see Hannibal in the doorway, but not Jack, who is sitting across from him, blocked by a wall. Now it’s a matter of waiting for the signal. Hannibal opens up his suitcase, and Will feels his hands sweat. Where did Hannibal manage to find that much cash?

Will has the gun tucked into the back of jeans, but he pulls it now, loads it, and keeps the safety off. He’s itching to use it, but he’s not sure on whom. Either one of them would be equally deserving. Maybe it would be easier to kill both of them and then himself. If Hannibal died, there’d be no telling who he’d be sent to in order to finish out his sentence, which was still another year away.

Hannibal taps his pointer and middle finger against the tabletop, and Will knows that his cue. Red floods his vision, and the next thing he knows, he’s kicking down Jack’s back door, and he hears two gunshots. He hears shouting and groaning, and he tosses his gun away. It hits the ground and goes off a third time. More groaning and shouting. He covers his ears and drawls under the table.

“No, no, no, no,” he chants. “Please. Please wake up.”

Will smacks himself across the face and smacks his skull against the edge of the table.

It hurts so badly that he makes himself dizzy, but he continues to do it until he feels hands grab his and pull him out from under the table.

“There, there, dear Will. It is time for us to go,” Hannibal murmurs.

“Please, please take me home,” Will sobs into Hannibal’s chest.

“Come.”

Will looks back only once before they walk out the front door. He doesn’t think he’s the one who broke Jack’s neck…

“Come,” Hannibal says again. “Time to go.”

It isn’t until they enter Hannibal’s home that Will notices that Hannibal is limping.

“Why are you…?”

“When you tossed the gun aside, the impact of it meeting the floor expelled a third bullet. It grazed my calf.”

Will’s eyes go wide, and he drops to his knees before him. Will bows his head.

He has not seen such submissive behavior in Will since the earlier days of his ownership. Will has been very good at asserting himself over the past few months. Hannibal had thought his readjustment was coming along nicely; this was unexpected, although very enjoyable.

“Will, you know this sort of behavior is unnecessary. We’ve spoken about this before.”

“I hurt you, Hannibal. I hurt you, and it was completely unprovoked. It is your right to administer a fitting punishment.”

“And what punishment would that be, my darling?”

“You must kill me.”

His voice is steady, but hollow in its delivery. He sounds resigned to his fate. Now was not the time, Hannibal decides.

“It is unfitting for a slave to tell his master what he must and must not do.”

Will raises his eyes to meet Hannibal’s for the first time since dropping to the floor.

“What you must do is fetch my hydrogen peroxide and gauze from my medicine cabinet to clean my wound.”

For a moment, Will freezes, but then rouses quickly to action.

When Will is safely upstairs, away from sight, Hannibal exhausted collapses into his armchair. The pain was severe, but he was not about to allow Will to catch on. It wouldn’t do to have Will think him weak. Especially not now that he knew what he was capable of when given the opportunity.

Will scurries back to the living room and finds Hannibal in his dress shirt, carefully stepping out of shoes and trousers to reveal a nasty wound.

“It doesn’t look deep,” he says, dabbing carefully at the blood.

“Luckily.”

Hannibal involuntarily hisses in pain. Guilty, Will goes back to cleaning until it is safe to wrap.

When finished, Will looks up from his spot on the floor and says, “I truly am sorry. I panicked. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Hannibal supposes that he’s telling the truth. The boy might want to hurt him, but he was certainly not planning on trying anything tonight. Will knew better than to lie, anyway. Hannibal considers him to be quite awful at it.

“I know.”

There’s a pause, and Will licks his lips, bites his lower one.

“I—I can make it up to you.”

Hannibal cocks his head to the side.

“Oh?”

Will nods.

“Uh huh.”

Will crawls until he’s resting on his heels between Hannibal’s legs. Hannibal’s already out of his trousers, which makes this process much easier for Will to execute. He reaches up and finds his master to already be half hard.

“Do you want me to?”

Hannibal isn’t sure how he does that. The only time Will sounds vulnerable and filthy and tainted and ruined is when gets like this. As if doing this flips a trigger inside him that shuts off the fear and fight in him and turns on this honey pot personality. 

“A defense mechanism,” Hannibal thinks as Will swallows him down.

Hannibal runs his fingers through Will’s curls.

“Not a bad one to have,” Hannibal admits to himself.

To Will he says, “Hold still,” and promptly empties into his mouth.

Will breathes heavily, but smiles.

“That bad or that good?” Will asks.

“I can never last long when you are so captivating, my sweet Will. Especially since you did so well today. I’m proud of you.”

Will’s smile broadens.

Such a sweet, damaged boy…


End file.
